Call of the Wild part 3
by fmlyhntr
Summary: If you liked the summing up of events at the end of CotW 2, then I doubt you'll like this. But, if you're like me, and thought they were strange to delusional...Perhaps the thoughts of a man with a head injury...read on.


**or Call of the Wild pt 3**

**Christina**

**May 1998**

_If you liked the summing up of events at the end of CotW 2, then I doubt you'll like this. But, if you're like me, and thought they were strange to delusional...Perhaps the thoughts of a man with a head injury...read on._

_PG (some mild language—a couple of words) And it definitely hints at more to come between Ben and Meg._

_Disclaimer: Alliance owns the rights, I just had the urge to play. And no insult to any real places.._

Fraser placed his hands over his eyes to block the glare from the snow and smiled. He'd forgotten just how blinding the snow and ice could be. He pulled a pair of black Ray-Bans from his pocket, with a higher than normal UV filter rating, and put them on. "You should put the sun glasses on, Stan." He'd been trying hard to remember to call Ray, Stan...Or was it Stan, Ray...It was confusing.

The detective turned, "Sun glasses? You're kidding, right?"

"Actually, I'm not. The reflection of the sun on the snow and ice can cause a condition called snow blindness."

"Huh," Stan said. He frowned. "What are the symptoms?"

"Spots in front of the eyes. Beeping equipment, an antiseptic smell...No, that's not right. Spots behind the beeps...Septic equipment...Voices..."

"Fraser?" A soft voice said. "Can you hear me?" A very concerned feminine voice. "Doctor, I think he's coming too."

Benton Fraser opened his eyes, then clasped his free hand over them to block the glare. He closed them quickly, then reopened them slowly to try to focus on his surroundings. His world was white, hazy...and very bright. "Where am I?" He focused on the woman who staring at him. "Inspector, what are you doing here? I thought you were in..." In where, his mind wasn't responding.

"We're in the hospital in Whitehorse. You gave us quite a scare."

"Hospital?" He looked around again, noticing that he was stiff, sore, and connected to every conceivable piece of equipment...Including a few embarrassing ones. And his left leg was in a sling.

She smiled. "When you fell into the mine shaft, you were lucky to only have suffered a broken leg and a cracked skull."

His memory started to return. "A submarine?" Then he paused, a frown creasing his features. "Muldoon?"

"He just suffered a broken jaw. You apparently landed on him. He's on his way to Toronto. **A lot** of people want to talk to him. I don't think he'll see the outside for over a hundred years." She leaned down to kiss his forehead. "Don't scare me like that again, Constable."

He smiled at her. "I promise. It hurts too much." She laughed slightly, then stepped aside as a small dark man moved to stand beside him.

"I'm Doctor Xiang. Welcome back to consciousness, Mr. Fraser." He looked at the charts, then pulled out his stethoscope. "You should make a complete recovery. I do excellent work, if I say so." The doctor grinned. "How's the head?"

"It hurts."

"I bet. I've prescribed an analgesic." He turned to look at Inspector Thatcher. "He needs to rest. You can fill him in on all the details later." He smiled as she left. "A real dragon lady—wouldn't leave your side. We finally had to drag her out. Your friends took care of her."

"How long was I unconscious?"

"Six days. You've had a lot of visitors." The doctor again looked at the charts. "I know I shouldn't know what is happening—but people talk. It's all hush-hush, but I gather congratulations are in order."

"I guess." Fraser stared at the ceiling, as he tried to make sense of his memories. Apparently the sub was a correct memory. As was falling in the mine shaft...But...He wasn't sure what was real...

"Hello Benton," another voice said. "You look ready to tackle a hungry mutt." There was a low warning growl in response. Then two front paws and the head of Diefenbacher appeared by his head.

Stan Kowalski looked at the Doctor, then his friend. "He just had to make sure they were treating you right."

"Hello old buddy," Fraser reached over with his free hand and rubbed the wolf's forehead. "See, I'm fine."

The doctor frowned as he watched the wolf, wondering how he'd gotten in... "Five minutes, then he'll have to leave. No pets allowed."

"Yes sir," Stan said with a grin. "And thanks."

Xiang shook his head. "Just don't tell anyone." He left.

"Some hick town. I think I've found the only decent hamburger joint in the place." Stan studied his friend. "The doc's right, it seems everything is going to be kept quiet."

Fraser groaned as the wolf licked his hand. "Dief. Stan, I'm..." He looked around the room. "What happened?"

Stan looked thoughtful for several seconds, "The short version. You rode off after Muldoon, roped him, and fell into a mine shaft." He laughed. "There was no deep bank of snow to stop the fall. It took us two hours to get you out." Stan shook his head. "What the hell happened down there anyway? Muldoon was raving about a ghost. Anyway, it was nightfall before the medivac helicopter arrived to bring you here."

Fraser smiled slightly at the mention of ghosts, but didn't comment.

Stan continued with his narrative. "Dragon...Inspector Thatcher, Dief, and I were able to fly out with you. All I can say, is I'm glad to see you alive and kicking. Well, sort of kicking—but alive."

Fraser grunted, he was tired. Stan noticed. "Come on Dief, he needs his beauty sleep." He stopped in the doorway. "By the way, I think Inspector Thatcher likes you." He smiled at the constable's blush. "See you tomorrow."

"Good-night Dief, Stan." Fraser mumbled, the doctor must have given him something. The last thing he heard before falling asleep—at least he thought he heard it—was Stan commenting on the wolf's top billing.

* * *

"Good morning."

Fraser opened his eyes to a woman in white sticking something under his tongue.

"No talking please." There was silence, then a beep. She pulled the thermometer out and smiled. "Normal. Mr. Fraser, what would you like for breakfast this morning?"

"I'd like pancakes..."

"The cook didn't feel like making those this morning. We have cereal." She read through his chart. "Milk, herbal tea...No coffee for you." She leaned over slightly and in a conspiratorial voice, said, "You had some important visitors while you were unconscious. What did you do? Save us from nuclear annihilation?" She laughed at her joke.

Fraser grunted noncommittally, as he focused his attention on the door.

"I'm sorry miss, it's not visiting hours." The nurse turned to shoo the unwanted visitors away. "Oh, excuse me Inspector, Detective..." She stepped away to allow them into the room.

Stan closed the door behind her, then laughed. "Badges can be useful."

"Indeed," Fraser commented as he looked at Meg then Stan. "You are early."

Stan pulled a styrofoam container from the bag he was carrying. "Hospital food, or this?" He waved the container under the constable's nose.

Fraser scrunched around as he tried to sit up. Most of the tubing had been removed, but the cast on his leg was awkward. "Thanks," he whispered.

Meg poured him a glass of water. "I heard from Toronto this morning. Muldoon apparently is hallucinating . They've called in a psychiatrist. All they would tell me is he is protecting himself by throwing things at some figment of his imagination." Fraser looked at her curiously as she continued. "What happened in the mine shaft anyway?"

He smiled slightly. "An old man was redeemed..."

"Huh?" Both Stan and Meg said simultaneously.

Fraser looked around the room—it still surprised him that his father's ghost was no longer present, then focused on Meg. "I think Muldoon saw a ghost." She snorted. "Paranormal occurrences are not unheard of..." He really didn't want to get into this. He took a bite of the pancakes Stan had brought. They were only luke-warm, but it beat what he'd had for dinner last night.

She nodded, then looked at Stan, who quietly moved toward the door. "I'm going to take a walk, you going to be all right?" He left without waiting for an answer.

"Our transfers were turned down," Meg said quietly, sitting down on the bed beside him.

Fraser looked at her, "They were?"

"Headquarters believes that we should remain in Chicago." She almost smiled. "Oh well. I'm not sure Toronto is all that great anyway."

"Chicago." Fraser nodded several times. "I guess I've grown use to the place."

"We can reapply in a year..."

"Of course." Fraser closed the container and stretched to put it on the small nightstand. "Business as usual?"

"As usual." She reached for his hand. "Except, you will have to find someplace to live. The consulate was not meant to serve as a dormitory."

"Yes, sir."

"But, I understand that it can be difficult to look for a place to live with this." She patted the cast. "And your office is hardly ideal..." She smiled at him. "I'll put you up, until the cast comes off."

"The Doctor did say it would be six to eight weeks...And there is Diefenbacher."

"I expect you to clean-up after the furry mutt."

"He's very clean, sir. Very fastidious in his personal hygiene..."

"Good." She took his hand. "There is one other condition, don't tell Turnbull. The poor kid would misunderstand." She leaned over. "He wants to transfer to Sergeant Frobisher's unit."

Fraser smiled at that image. "I think the dogs would have him pulling the sled within the day."

Meg laughed, then looked in his eyes. She smiled shyly, then drew closer...

The door slammed opened. "Wow..." Stan walked in the room. "You should see the nurses in...Oh, excuse me...I'm terribly sorry." He stood in the doorway looking at the pair. "I'm..." He looked around uncomfortably. "I'll be back..."

Meg stood up, and managed not to blush—too much. "It's all right, detective."

"If you say so. Oh, Turnbull is looking for you." There was a crash from outside. "Never mind, I think he found you."

Turnbull entered and looked around. "Sir." He snapped to attention. "Toronto called. HQ wants to talk to you right away. Hello, Constable Fraser..." He relaxed slightly. "You look much improved."

"Thank-you..."

Meg cut him off. "Turnbull, who in Toronto wanted to talk with me?"

He looked at her with a very confused look on his face. "I..." He reached into his pocket. "I wrote down all the information. The airplane will be here tomorrow."

She glared at him. "What airplane?"

"The one they are sending to take us back to Chicago..." Turnbull managed to look even more confused. "Sir." He pulled another yellow post-it from his pocket.

Meg frowned. "I'd better take care of this." She took the papers and started to walk out the door. Turnbull just stood there. "Come..." She shook her head. Turnbull trotted after her.

Stan stood staring at his friend for a minute, while the mountie politely waited for him to speak.

"Sorry about that, Fraser. If I had known...well."

"Don't worry about it. How's Dief this morning?"

"Better, since you are. He's quite taken with her." The detective inclined his head slightly toward the door. "You may have some competition there..." He grinned.

"Have you heard anything from Chicago?" Fraser asked, determined to get the subject changed.

"Ray—the real Ray—is fine. I understand they will be relocating him, the mob isn't very happy with him. I'm sorry about your transfer. I know how much it meant to you."

Fraser thought for several seconds. "It may not have meant as much as I thought." He paused. "You still interested in that adventure? I have..."

Stan laughed. "Hell no. I've had enough adventure for a life time."

Fraser smiled. "No trip across the Arctic tundra?"

Stan shook his head. "No dogsledding either, thank-you. By the way, if you need a place to stay while you're laid up."

Fraser shook his head. "Thank-you, but it won't be necessary."

Stan rolled his eyes. "Well, well."

Thatcher entered and looked at Fraser. "Muldoon suffered a massive coronary an hour ago, they don't expect him to live." She paused. "And Toronto is sending us back to Chicago, tomorrow." She threw Stan a quick glance. "You too. And Dief." She laughed. "Turnbull's transfer was approved."

Fraser smiled, "Just tell him to avoid buses."

"Buses? They don't even have a snowmobile up there." Meg shook her head.

Fraser smiled. "The lucky dogs..." When Meg laughed, Stan shook his head, convinced it was some Canadian joke.


End file.
